Wanna Be Called Puppy In Mundane Situations, “thank You Puppy” When I Do You A Favor, “pretty Puppy”

they got rid of the classical elements & replaced it with something called the 'four harmonious insects' so now instead of fire, water, etc we have moth, spider, leech and worm.

the way ppl have designated cuddling as a purely romantic thing and is weird outside of that context has done widespread damage to our pack animal nature

ohhh so now you're doing a fucked up team attack, huh? alright, which is it, huh? another power of friendship type, or is it the awesome might of your military empire?

I’m a big fan of that post-laundry feeling when you’ve got all your A-list clothes back in the game.

I'm going to make it so you can NEVER be forklift certified

hyperfixation please stay with me long enough to complete the project. hyperfixation do not fade. hyperfixation finish what you started for the love of god

Mean Girls (2004) House MD (2009)

Injecting pure estrogen into my bloodstream so I forcefeminize my vampire friend

She never wanted anything before.

She lived her life for other people, always doing what they wanted her to. They told her to do things, maybe to get a job done, or go somewhere, or to say something - and she would.

She was good at taking care of herself.

She met all of her medical needs. She ate to remain living, never taking any enjoyment in the act. She was alive, but even she could see that there was a difference between being alive and actually having a life.

She kept it up for a while.

Some people - those with common sense and yet no understanding - would disparage her for this:

‘How terrible must it be to live without living? How could she do this to herself? Did she not see what it was doing to her?’

But other people exist, and some of those people have care, and empathy, and understanding, and a capacity for love.

Her miss is one of those people. She took one look at her, and knew exactly what she had to do.

She did not demand that she fix herself, that she take the fractured parts of the person she could have been and form a facsimile of enjoyment and emotion. She did not ask her to magic away her flaws and change her personality and act as if nothing was ever wrong with her.

Instead, she took all of her broken mechanisms and functions and twisted them towards her own self-serving altruism.

She made her wear the clothes she loved but was too scared and indecisive to wear.

She made her go to the places she wanted to experience but wouldn’t dare go otherwise.

She made her accept her own desires and made her realise other people could love her, things she knew before but would never act on for fear of pushing people away.

At the end, she lay on her miss’ bed, looking all pretty in her new dress, tired from night after night of new things, and with a smile on her face.

And her miss made her do one more thing. One last step. She made her step out of this body of meat and bone which she had always hated but had never been able to leave, and step into a better one.

One made of ceramic and metal. One with lovely joints and perfect mechanisms. One which doesn’t need so much taking care of.

One which she can, finally, admit that she wants and loves.

Her boss sits at the table, staring across at another man. Well, she notes dryly in her head, not a man. Never a man, at least not again. He’s pale, same as her and her boss. 

To some, he would look almost like a corpse.

To a small, unlucky few, they would recognise him as one.

She busies herself with tasks, pouring drinks, keeping candles lit, and delegating to the other servants. She checks the oven, ensuring the temperature within is just right. Too low, and the meal would be cold and unpleasant. Too high, and it would be charred to death and boiled and ruined.

It wouldn’t do for her to ruin a meal. It would be so improper to serve anything less than perfection, so she’s become adept at cooking. She knows the tastes and preferences of her boss perhaps better than her own. She knows how to pick the right supplier for her meals. She knows how to prepare and present them with an absolute minimum of mess and panic.

In the kitchen, a timer rings, snapping her out of her routine.

The meal ought to be perfectly warm by now.

She takes them out of the oven, checks them over with a keen eye. All parts unnecessary for consumption have been skilfully removed by her hand, and it’s in the perfect state to be served up.

She moves the meal on top of a trolley, such that it can be more easily served. Even her new lifestyle hasn’t made her strong enough to carry the whole thing on a plate, and it’s not as if it can exactly walk anymore.

She rolls the trolley into the room, and slides the metal tray onto the table. She stands in the corner, behind her boss, and looks on politely.

They start on their meal.

As they lean forwards to drain the meal, it reacts. She wasn’t careless enough to kill it, after all. That would ruin the blood. Sealed lips quiver. Hollow eye sockets twitch, trying to focus eyes that no longer exist. Muscles, devoid of limbs to attach to, tense and lock up. Its breaths become short and shaky. 

It attempts to scream.

So rude.

It should remember it has no vocal cords.

After a while, it stills. The meal is over now.

She removes and disposes of the leftovers before returning to her room.